Silk
by raccooncitizen
Summary: Being with Lara Croft isn't easy, even for a man like Chris Redfield. He reflects upon their unconventional liaison in the aftermath of one of their nightly encounters. One-Shot


Disclaimer: This is fan fiction. As such, I do not claim any ownership of the Characters. Lara Croft / Tomb Raider © Crystal Dynamics/Eidos/Square Enix; Chris Redfield / Resident Evil © CAPCOM.

A/N: The following oneshot is the contextualisation of a 3D render I made of these two.

You can find it at: raccooncitizen . deviantart . com/art/Silk-205805938

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><p><strong>Silk<strong>

We never call each other by our first names.

What started out in the context of a silly game of besting each other soon became our premise. It's a psychological thing; and it's one of the first rules for the field I've been taught back at the USAFA. You do not name things you're not prepared to lose.

I just can't tear my eyes away from this godlike sight. Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, she lies next to me, her ribcage rising and falling ever so shallowly. Her soft, ivory skin radiates a beauty and grace that cannot be put into words. I feel so protective of her. God, she'd kick my ass if she knew.

Each night we spend together feels like it's our last. Exceptional. She is wild and passionate beyond imagination. Suddenly bereft of all the class and self-control she displays during the day. She is completely unpredictable and lives for the moment. And when any other woman would snuggle closer and rest her head on my chest this one just lightly kisses me good night, flashes me a content smile, adjusts a pillow under her head and closes her eyes, leaving me startled. That's such a male thing to do, after all.

I wonder why she always sleeps with the bed lamp on. At first I thought she left it on for me but even if I switch it off it will be on again not long after I leave.

In a slow, graceful movement she rolls on her back and drags along a couple of short hair strands. I reach out to move a curl away from her eye and freeze as her soft breath tickles my palm. Tentatively, I drag my fingertips down her cheekbone, marvelling at her strikingly aristocratic features as suddenly, my conscience kicks in and I silently curse myself. How many times have I told myself to not get attached! People like me mustn't get attached. People like her – they just don't.

_ Get going already. You have already stayed too long._

We have an agreement. She said this _'thing'_ - we don't name it either - could only work as long as we handled it professionally. She made it clear that she wanted to wake up in separate beds in the morning. This had seemed a fairly odd condition to begin with but it did work, for me - at least in the beginning. I don't know how she feels but I'm finding it harder and harder to part with her in the middle of the night as this goes on.

As if she can read my thoughts she turns around and presents me her beautiful back. A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips and I lean forward to take in a noseful of her intoxicating scent mixed with mine before I leave. Yes, this is probably the closest to 'us' there ever will be. Just as I reach to cover her shoulders with the silk blanket she pulls the fabric down with her feet. I frown.

_ Fair enough. It _is _hot in here._

Slowly, I roll out of bed, gather my clothes from the floor and try to pay extra attention to not wake her, as I get dressed.

My sister keeps telling me I should stop doing this to myself. The longer this goes on the more it destroys you, she uses to tell me. Oh, the irony - I was giving her the same speech before Kennedy finally realized what was good for him. They made it to a happy ending. What about me? Will I be this lucky? I really can't tell. Her and I, we fight much during the day. In fact, no other woman gets me as aggravated as she does. And no other woman makes me feel so alive either. It's not just the sex, which is mind-blowing. I pretend to not notice those tiny, genuine smiles and unconscious touches that slip in when she is tired or off-guard. It's them that brighten up my day like no other and encourage me to continue with our _special_ situation. As far as I know she's not the type to commit. As far as I know, the only man she accepts in her life is her elderly butler. I wonder what it takes to win her heart. Would she even let me? Or is this doomed to remain only a physical thing? What if my sister is right, after all? What if all this does lead to nowhere? Maybe I should take Claire's advice and do something about it before it's too late.

She stirs and shifts in her sleep as I grab the key to the adjacent hotel room from the bed stand and turn to head towards the door.

"Stay..."

I freeze in my tracks, heart suddenly thumping loudly in my chest. Am I imagining things? I turn around and walk over to her side of the bed and kneel in front of her. Her eyes are still closed but her breathing is now a little accelerated.

She looks so fragile, so angelic. She is the one thing I can never completely have.

"Stay...", she breathes again.

"I wish...", I whisper softly.

_ Get real, Redfield. She's dreaming – and why would she refer to you, anyway._

I rise up and walk towards the door, careful not to make any sound.

"Chris... stay…"

I tense. After a short moment, I look back over my shoulder to ascertain that she hasn't woken. She hasn't. She called my name; she broke our agreement - even if it was in a dream. But that's enough to give me back hope. Why did I even spend one thought on giving up on her? Shaking my head at myself I turn my attention to her sleeping form and find her breathing slowly calming. Suddenly, a wide grin spreads over my face before I can think about it. I sneak to her nightstand, grab the pencil and write the words 'You lose, Lara!' on the note pad.

A minute later, I silently close the door after me and I move over to my room. I wonder if she remembers her dreams.

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><p>Thank you for taking your time and reading this. It would be nice if you could drop me a line and tell me what you think about it. ;]<p> 


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